A Hobbit's Black Heart
by apoemforyou1
Summary: Post-Quest, Frodo's life hurts so much he tries suicide. Sam, however, tries to help him the way only he knows. Frodo/Sam(I'm sorry, I am) Rated T just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

The pain was like lightening stinging, riples of chilly water that pounded in waves and made thin breath falter and jump. And yet a safe, comfortable blackness loomed over Frodo, like a firm bed after a hard day's work. But he could not reach it, for he felt himself fading into cold mud rather than being lifted into warm dark. A crystal tear ran down, lonesome, from the corner of his eye, as we awaited the relief in which he'd say "At last".

But it never came. Frodo lost his grip on the dagger of red silver, small and swift, and it fell to the ground, on a thin puddle of blood.

His head was aching, as if the rain outsider pounded down on himself. What had he done? Why had he failed, and why was he broken, drained of life, flushed with redness on his cheeks. Shame. It was it, the black fog that blinded him, buried him in the darkest of barrows, where black riders loomed, and dark wings, oily hands, white eyes... all reaching out for him. And sorrow, heavy, as heavy as the ghost of the Eye, heavy like bruises on his chest, nesting on his heart, wrapped up around his ribs like cobwebs.

Frodo sobbed once, but had not enough breath to do it again. He felt himself fading, finally fading into forgetfulness. His heart sighed, and he let out his last warm breath through his lips.

'Mr. Frodo!'

He was propped up, held in familiar arms. His wound shrieked.

Sam blinked, everything dawning on him like a bright light, intense and flashing, and crimson, everywhere it was now.

'Oh... oh my! ,what have you _done_!'

Sam ripped the sheets from 's bed and wrapped them around his master's torso as quickly as he could.

'Stay with me, please! Stay.'

Frodo nested his head on Sam's arm, very pale and cold was his skin.

'There now.' said Sam, 'Just don't-'

The grip was slippery, and Frodo lost it, as it rolled out of reach, and he saw dark spots before him, shielding him from Sam, until he thought he had gone blind. However, it felt to him as if he was finally allowed to rest his weary eyes, and lay back in a sea of velvet of the deepest midnight black.


	2. Chapter 2

'I came as soon as I received your message. Hello Rose, dear.'

Gandalf stepped into Bag End, as welcoming as ever. The ghost of fire light was to be seen on the clay tiles, streaming in from the second parlour. It was raining heavily, and yet, it was _luminous_ rain, like grey and yellow beads of glass.

'Oh. Oh , sir, we've been desperate!', said Sam. 'We've been desperate, Rosie and I. Even Sting I locked away, but left him his feathers, no matter how Sharp they are.'

'I feared this very outcome.' said Gandalf. 'Yet, I was quite skeptical, strongly I mean. Slumbering like this after all the toil he face seemed unimaginable!'

'And yet, what's done is done, sir. I knew not who else to cal.

'Where is he, pray?'

'Over at the second parlour.' said Sam in a hushed tone. 'By the fire.'

Gandalf slowly peeked into the room, right by the office, with clay tiles and a fireplace, and a little window hidden at the back. Frodo sat back on a chair in front of the fire, with a blanket on his legs and his hands on his lap. He looked sad, yet more serious than sad, full of empty thoughts. Gandalf saw his hand, the one missing a finger, reaching for his side and pressing where his most recente wound stinged. All the harm had been inflicted upon him by other agentes of evil, and now he had turned on himself. It made Gandalf very sad, but he hid t as he drew near the hobbit.

'How does my good hobbit?' he inquired. Frodo looked at him, and did not draw the slightest smile as he always did when he saw his wizard friend. Yet, he was a poised and polite as ever.

'Gandalf! How delightful it is to see you. I would rise, but I find myself weary these days, you must forgive me. Come and have a seat by the fire.'

'Samwise has told me a tale that chilled my bonés to the marrow, Frodo.'

Frodo looked away.

'I'm tired.'

He fingered the white gem upon his breast, letting his eyes close gently.

'Like I can't breathe... Like I can't escape. It is too deep.'

'My dear Frodo,' said Gandalf ''Tis not the matter of escaping it. It is about not letting it win. Think of all the free peoples of Middle Earth, the joy in their tears as they saw you step before Aragorn, safe and-'

Frodo looked at Gandalf, slightly astonished, shaking his head as he spoke.

'How can you say such things?'

'We can afford it, .' said Sam.

'_You_ can afford it, Sam.'

Gandalf stayed at Bag End for a while. Unlike Sam, who was much too absent, and Rosie, who was much too busy, he did no more than smoking his pipe and keeping an eye on Frodo. Once he was alarmed to realize the hobbit was nowhere to be seen, not in his room, not in his office, not even on the chair by the fire where he napped for hours, and where he now slept for the night.

He was finally found in the garden, on his back on the grass, letting the soft rain fall on him and drench him.

Could one vomit sadness? Frodo felt as if the knot in his throat was to tug at his guts. Yet he thought little of it, for he slept far too much these days.

One night came, dark and terribly silent. Gandalf heard a stiffled cry on the back of his ear, far inside the moaning of th wind outsider.

Candles were lit with hot rush. Curly heads were heavy and tangled, but eyes were alert and hearts dreaded the night.

They knocked on Frodo's door. They tried to open it. Yet it wouldn't budge, nor sound would break it.

'The window! I'll give it a try.' said Sam, dashing outsider, regardless of the cold darkness and wet grass, and found Frodo's round window. It stood open, just one inch. He flung the shutter and climbed inside with much effort.

Frodo clinged on to the arms that reached out for him, holding him tight against Sam's breast. A warm hand rested upon his chilled white brow, sending shivers down his body.

'You aren't to lock your door, .'

'Please don't open it... I... don't let them in, they'll see the orcs.'

'The orcs?'

'They're here! They've come!', said Frodo, his eyes deeply forked with grey light, and the pain in his stare caused Sam to look away. 'They mustn't see them. Or they'll think I've gone mad!'

'Don't worry, they'll see no orcs, for there are no orcs here.'

'But they'll come for me! It's all my fault. I bore the Ring, they'll all seek their revenge!'

And he tore himself away from Sam's arms and wept.

Sam stared for a momment at that sorrowful sight, and his heart broke slowly. He remembered the once light-hearted and thoughtful, wise beyond his years and shinny as the Elves - his master. His master, who now lay shivering, tormented by nightmares of orcs and old wounds, frail, empty... _Broken_. It brought a prickling tear to the corner of Sam's eye, and he crushed it with his thumb.

' ..._ Frodo_.' he whispered, and laid beside him, hugging him once more.

Frodo rolled over, so he was under Sam's warm body.

'Sam. I _need_ you.' he said.

'Again.'

'But don't...', he said, but fel silent as he felt Sam's hand sliding into his shirt.


End file.
